


Wishes

by swaps55



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Actually this is Raphael Sbarge's fault, Disney, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Happily Ever After, I Blame Tumblr, This fic will give you cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaps55/pseuds/swaps55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“So somebody remind me what we’re doing again?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Jack glares at no one in particular, arms folded across her chest, suspicion in her eyes.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“We’re heroes,” Garrus replies. “According to Alenko and Vega, this is what heroes do.”</i>
</p><p>During a Reddit AMA, Raphael Sbarge confirmed my suspicions he narrated a Disney vacation planning DVD. So naturally it came up on tumblr that Kaidan should take everyone to Disney World. OP delivers. </p><p>This fic will give you cavities. I don't even know how it happened. Forgive me? Rating for language only, because Jack. Otherwise it's as rated G as it gets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishes

With the opening of the medbay doors, weeks of apprehension wash away in one long, shared exhale. It’s _her_ – alive, whole, leaning on the shoulder of Alenko as he guides her carefully across the threshold. As she takes that first shaky step he whispers something in her ear that brings a slow, sheepish smile to her face.  

The scars of her stand on the Citadel, the eruption of light that nearly reduced it – and her – into gaseous dust, still stand out on her pale skin like a pattern of shattered glass, but the smile on her face is indisputably, indefinably _Shepard,_ in a way that nothing, not even death, is able to shake.

“Hi, everyone,” she says, biting her lip, eyes flicking from face to face with uncharacteristic nervousness. Quicker than anyone can speak, Garrus crosses the distance between them with two long strides and swallows her in a gentle hug, subharmonics thrumming with days, hell, _years,_ of grief and worry.

“You did it, Shepard.”

The applause that erupts is so loud the deckplates rattle under their feet.

~

In the weeks that follow she walks the ship with unsteady feet, until she slowly finds her bearings again and purpose returns to her step.

She starts joining Kaidan more in the starboard lounge. Before the battle for Earth she never liked to stop and look at the stars, but now she stands with him, a warm ember nestled against his chest, as they gaze out at the white pinpricks of light. On this side of the ship, the side that looks away from Earth and the fractured Citadel, it’s easy to forget how much they’ve lost.   

Kaidan tilts his head, resting it against her temple. “Shepard…are you serious?”

She shrugs, tracing idle patterns on the skin of his arm with her fingers. “You think it’s stupid, don’t you?”

He laughs, a genuine, heartfelt laugh that sounds strange to his own ears. “Hey, I’m the one who told you about it, as I recall. I just didn’t realize you, uh. I thought _you_ thought it was stupid.”

“You think I’d laugh at your cherished childhood memories.”

“You _did_ laugh at the story about the cryo mod on the air soft gun.”

She pokes his side hard enough that he jumps. “Because you were an incurable nerd at the age of _eight._ It deserves mocking.” Her amusement fades quickly to something solemn, almost wistful. “Do you even think it’s still there?”

“After what we’ve just been through? Anything is possible.”

Her laugh echoes with a nervous flutter that makes his heart flip flop in his chest. “I know it’s ridiculous. But I’m just so… _tired_ , Kaidan. I’ve been fighting one war another since I was a kid. Never stopped to have a life. Don’t even remember what it was like to be a kid. I think it would be nice, just once, to pretend I was something other than a weapon. Act like a kid. Take back some of that childhood I never got. Princes, princesses. Talking mice and ducks, apparently. You know. Maybe for just one day…believe in a little magic.”

He kisses the top of her head and squeezes her hand. “If it’s there, we’ll go. All of us. I promise.”     

~

“So somebody remind me what the fuck we’re doing again?”

Jack glares at no one in particular, arms folded across her chest, suspicion in her eyes.

“We’re heroes,” Garrus replies. “According to Alenko and Vega, this is what heroes do.”

Vega sighs happily, leaning his head against the shuttle bulkhead. “I remember doing this as a kid with mi _abuela._ Every kid should get the chance to see it. It’s the happiest place on Earth! And the reapers didn’t destroy it. _Loco._ ”

Jack casts a wary glance at Shepard, who smiles innocently. “Jack, I’m about to introduce you to Prince Charming.”

“If the next words out of your mouth have anything to do with Kaidan Alenko I’m going to punch a hole in this shuttle.”

“Hey,” Kaidan protests.

“Back off, pretty boy. You’re her fantasy, not mine.”

Shepard’s smile broadens. “Come on, Jack. Didn’t you ever want to be a princess when you were little? Live in a castle?”

“You know, between the drug fueled fights and torture sessions I must have forgotten to nurture my imagination.”

“Yeah, and between dodging batarian gauntlets and hiding from slavers I didn’t exactly get a traditional upbringing either.” Shepard leans forward, elbows propped on her knees. “That’s why I wanted you to come. We won. Jack, we _did_ it. Time to just…do something fun, for once. Something that _doesn’t_ matter. Except to us.”

Outside the shuttle, the clouds thin out as Cortez cues their descent, revealing a swath of palm trees and swamp land and a silver geodesic sphere hovering on the horizon. But most important of all, no signs of the reapers.

~

The people of Earth have gone back to work where they can, desperate for some semblance of normalcy, some assurance that life is going to continue in a recognizable form. The parking lot is full when they arrive, humans mostly, but certainly some curious aliens, and no strange looks given as Shepard spots a familiar krogan hump waiting impatiently at a kiosk labeled _Transportation and Ticket Center_ and bolts, hurling herself into his arms with a squeal of joy.

Wrex roars Shepard’s name and restrains his headbutt only at Alenko’s frantic insistence. Grunt, a smaller but no less intimidating presence, smacks his fist into an open palm, rusty laugh echoing off the concrete.

 _It’s over_ , Garrus thinks. _It’s really over._ Somehow Grunt’s laugh makes it real. They’re all here, the ones still standing anyway. Tali hooks an arm through his, and though he can’t see her face he feels her smile, even more so now that he knows what it looks like under the mask.

Joker mutters something to EDI, who merely observes her surroundings with her usual pensive expression. She is worried about coming, an AI wandering a public, civilian theme park, but Joker tells her that if anyone tries to care about it now, they might as well change their minds and let the reapers win.

They board a monorail shuttle with a pink blaze running down its white flanks. As the doors hiss shut behind them a female VI rattles off safety instructions in several different languages, including turian. Javik scowls, suspicious eyes roving the car for the VI’s power source.

“Shepard. I do not recognize the language of this automaton.”

“Which one? They cover, uh, most of them.”

_“Por favor mantengase alejado de las puertas.”_

James crows with pride. “What? Come on, man. Do you ever listen to me at all?”

“No.”

~

Jack doesn’t understand what the fuck has gotten into Shepard. Perhaps she hasn’t come away from the Citadel as intact as everyone thinks. The music playing when they disembark the monorail is so gaudy and saccharine she already has a headache, and the families with their children, all still bearing the glazed, stunned, _what did we just live through_ look in their eyes, make her heart twist a little. Fantasies are for little girls, something Jack hasn’t been…ever. This place, whatever the hell it is, is not meant for her.

Especially when she finds Miranda waiting for them at the gates. Sure, they buried the hatchet to some degree at Shepard’s little party on the Citadel, but that was with the assistance of lots ( _lots)_ of alcohol. She’s not sure how well she can handle the former Cerberus cheerleader sober.    

“What the shit are you doing here?”

A thin scowl mars the perfect symmetry of her face. “I came to do something…normal.” She glances at Shepard, some meaningful private look exchanged between the two.

“I hardly see how any of this is _normal,”_ Garrus comments.

“I have to admit I agree with you,” Miranda replies, though her lips curve in a smile that Jack never once saw in her time on the _Normandy_. “But I’ve learned to give Shepard the benefit of the doubt.”

Jack barks a quick laugh. “Speak for yourself. Galaxy’s savior or not, I’m really starting to wonder if this is the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever done Shepard, and I followed you on a suicide mission.”

“One day,” Shepard says. “That’s all I’m asking. Consider it …one last mission. Who knows, from here we might all go our separate ways and never see each other again.”  

Fucking hell that woman always knows just what to say.

Jack doesn’t know what the big deal is until they push through the turnstiles, walk under the railroad gantry and emerge on the other side…into something so completely and utterly fucking perfect she almost quits breathing.

A pristine avenue lined with pastel painted facades, a bakery, a barbershop, a fucking _ice cream shop,_ all something borne right out of a dream. Spotless white trim adorns each storefront, flowers bloom in neatly groomed beds, a horse, a real goddamned _horse,_ pulls a trolley like it’s a normal thing, and none of it compares to what waits at the end of the street.

A castle. A mother. fucking. _castle_.

The ramparts gleam like polished marble, framed by four round parapets from the center of which a stunning keep rises elegantly into the sky, hooded by sapphire awnings so rich it looks like part of the sky has come down to rest on its shoulders.  At its uppermost heights a tiny flag waves from the top of an elegant spire capped in gold.

No fairytale she’s ever heard matches the edifice before her right now.

Miranda stifles a gasp. Shepard makes a small, delighted sound, eyes wide and round as saucers. Alenko, the smug little bastard he is, beams, and it’s not because of the damn castle. He grips Shepard’s hand tightly, tugging her close, resting his cheek against hers.

“Sometimes wishes do come true,” he whispers.

If it wasn’t so fucking amazing she’d slug him for being such a goddamned putz.  

But it is. And she hastily scrubs a thumb across her eye before anyone can see.

~

James doesn’t know how he’s gotten stuck with these two. Sparks has her faceplate buried in an omnitool, consulting maps and reading ride descriptions, and Scars won’t stop scanning Cinderella Castle for snipers.

“This is amazing – I’m looking at resources that claim there’s a surprising, predictable pattern to crowd dispersion and queue lines,” the quarian reports. “I can actually calculate a touring pattern taking into account attraction popularity, traffic pattern and density and historical averages. Wow. Imagine if we’d had access to this level of data during the war.” Her fingers flash across the golden gauntlet on her wrist, _completely_ oblivious to the Dapper Dan quartet trying to sing to her as they pass by.

James gestures madly, eyes wide in disbelief, but all he gets is a mild flick of the mandible from Garrus.

“ _Really_? You’re not impressed about getting serenaded on the street?”

“They have impressive subharmonics,” Garrus concedes.

“ _Ay dios mio.”_

“According to my calculations,” Tali says slowly, “We need to proceed northeast. Towards a place called…Tomorrowland? Odd name. There’s a mountain there. Apparently it’s popular to climb.”

James claps his hands together. “ _Now_ we’re talking. Space Mountain. Let’s go.”

 She glances at Garrus. “I don’t see how that’s exciting. Didn’t we climb a _lot_ of mountains in the Mako?”

“You don’t climb it, you _ride_ it,” James explains. “It was my favorite as a kid. Now _move.”_

~

It’s weird, but EDI kind of fits in Tomorrowland.

“You almost blend in with the scenery,” Joker says with a laugh, taking in the retro-future architecture with bemusement. The visions of the likes of Jules Verne forever immortalized alongside a talking mouse in red pants.

She tilts her head, expression serene. “According to the local extranet, the philosophy behind the design was to create…a tribute to the future as imagined during a specific period of time in Earth’s history. I do not understand the purpose. It is called ‘Tomorrowland,’ yet it is in fact not really a depiction of any particular _time_ , but rather a fantastical rendering of something that never actually existed.”

“I think that’s probably because constantly remaking a place into a land of tomorrow gets cost prohibitive.”

“That is a…disappointing conclusion.”

Joker laughs. “I cannot wait to tell Shepard that Disney World disappointed you.”

EDI’s nearly unshakable poise suddenly cracks, amber eyes dimming in her approximation of concern. “Please do not mention this exchange with Shepard.”

“Only if you ride the roller coaster with me.”

“I also fail to understand how deliberately eliciting an adrenal response is appealing to you – considering your history as a member of Shepard’s crew, it does not seem like an enjoyable pursuit.”

“You’re talking about having the shit scared out of you because Harbinger’s trying to slice us in half. I’m talking about a rollercoaster. That’s in the _dark._ And you’re going to record the track layout so I can program the _Normandy_ to simulate it. We’re going to bring Space Mountain into actual space, and it’s going to be glorious.”

He eyes the stream of people drawn to an entrance at the base of the curiously shaped white dome, and spots a familiar turian – _still wearing his armor,_ because _Garrus_ – with a very focused Tali, and Vega, who looks like he’s hoping no one figures out it’s been Christmas morning  two days in a row.

Joker waves, points to Space Mountain, and grins at EDI. “The best part of this? I get cutsies because I’m disabled.”  

~

Garrus eyes the tiny looking rocket car in front of him, using his visor to determine if the laws of spatial reality will actually allow him to fit inside. It’s so dark in here he has to switch to infrared, and the volume and frequency of human screams echoing from inside the dome has him more than a little alarmed.

When they are ushered to the load gates, Joker pushes past. “I’m the pilot. I’m riding in front. EDI follows him, her metallic carapace gleaming in the dim, starry light like the pale outline of a ghost.

“Hold on to your ass, big guy,” Vega says, as he settles his considerable bulk into one of the tiny seats.

“I can’t _fit_ in these.”

“Sure you can. Take the back.”

“I don’t actually bend the way this wants me to bend.”

“Get _in_ , Scars.”

Tali touches him on the arm, slides gracefully into the car behind Vega and looks back over her shoulder, clearing her throat.

With a sigh he does his best to fold, cram, and otherwise stuff his oversized turian body into the fake rocket. “Remind me to have a word with Shepard when we get done, will you?”

Vega cackles. “Get ready for the ride of your life!”

The rocket shoots forward into the dark, whips around a corner and starts up a ramp with a jerk. A funnel of color erupts around them in streaking patterns of oscillating light, nearly frying his visor and rendering him blind. “Spirits,” he swears, unable to understand why humans feel prompted to shriek throughout the duration of the experience in some bizarre combination of fear and exhilaration.

They reach the nadir of the track’s climb, leaving the color behind and disappearing into a black void. His visor winks suddenly off, leaving him completely unable to see the track.

“Tali. Did you just _hack_ my visor?”

“It was Joker’s idea!”

The car takes a sudden, unpredictable dive with a hard swerve to the left.

Garrus screeches, a humiliating sound somewhere between a scream and a bellow. And continues to do so for the next two and a half minutes.

~

Grunt stops on the plank bridge and stares up at the sign, eyes wide and hopeful.

“What is it?” Shepard asks, coming to a stop beside him. Kaidan has steered Wrex, Javik and Liara to a festive looking kiosk selling concessions, politely but firmly informing everyone they are stopping for something called a Dole Whip.

Grunt raises an open hand towards the sign, voice almost a reverent whisper. “It says Adventureland.”

Shepard grins and puts a hand on the back of his shoulder. “Kaidan says they’ve got pirates in here.”

 _“Pirates_? There are batarians here?”

“Oh, no. God, no. No, no, no. Human pirates. Harmless. You know. Eye patch, peg leg, parrot on the shoulder? Why is the rum gone? Remember, I showed you when you were at my apartment. For the party.” She cocks her head to the side. “On second thought…you probably don’t remember.”

He grabs her hand and half leads, half drags her down the path into the palm trees. “Show me.”

~

As they leave _Pirates of the Caribbean_ and make their way to the Jungle Cruise, people stop and stare at the sight of the krogan wearing an eye patch. Grunt had to modify it with string to fit his great head, but he wears it with gusto, strolling down the street swinging a plastic sword and bawling the same song over and over at the top of his youthful lungs.

“ _Yo-ho, yo-ho, A PIRATE’S LIFE FOR ME!”_

_~_

Miranda gazes about the cozy French cottage in awe. She doesn’t know the story being told here, and the talking candlestick is a little peculiar, but the paintings, the ornate chandelier, the shelves lined with rows and rows of books are nothing short of splendid. And the woman in the _dress_. A princess, she gleans, in a dazzling, pleated yellow gown, weaves her tale in front of a baroque fireplace. She is smart, she is funny, she is brave…if Miranda had gotten the chance to live a normal life, this woman, _Belle_ , is someone she would have wanted as a friend.

“Whoever the fuck this Gaston prick is needs to have his balls ripped off,” Jack says, arms folded indignantly over her chest. When an aghast parent tugs her daughter away, the biotic merely shrugs. “What? You’d rather your pretty little girl grow up thinking men are just allowed to be assholes?”

Well, Miranda thinks with a sigh. You make do with what you have.

Because as terrifying as the thought is, she does kind of think of Jack as a friend. She’s no Belle, and the idea of her wearing a frilly dress almost makes her giggle, but there’s something about the foul-mouthed, tattooed woman that she’s actually come to find reassuring.

“Come on,” Jack says when they exit the cottage back into the sunlight. “I see a tavern over there. I need a beer.”

“I don’t actually think it’s real beer.”

“Fucking Christ, what kind of place _is_ this?”

“A magic one,” Miranda says, before she can stop herself. She puts a hand to her mouth, trying to hide her flush of embarrassment.

But Jack doesn’t laugh. Merely huffs a little, looks around as children of all ages, some wearing mouse ears, some riding in strollers, tug at their parents’ hands, pointing, shouting and laughing. They are families. Unbowed by the reapers, emerging from the dark side of the moon back into sunlight.  

“Yeah,” she says after a long moment. “Maybe you’re right.”

~

Garrus has to grab hold of Tali in order to walk straight once they exit Space Mountain. Whatever that monstrosity is, it’s annihilated his sense of balance. How Joker, James, EDI (ok, he can understand EDI), and Tali can laugh it off like the experience was somehow enjoyable is beyond him.   

And then the next thing you know, Tali _abandons_ him to meet up with Liara and explore small worlds.

“I swear, I’d rather fight Cerberus,” Garrus moans, as they weave their way behind the great castle, the gaudy space décor seamlessly transitioning into something much more…rural? He doesn’t get a chance to look, because Vega suddenly steers him towards a colorful tent.

“I’ve got a fix for you,” the beefy marine declares.

“What?” Garrus asks, warily.

“Teacups.”

~

The pirates did not quite impress Liara the way they did Grunt.  There is a little too much make believe in this place for her tastes, but she spots something on the pastel colored park map that _does_ seem a little promising. Informative, at the very least.

“It’s a Small World,” Tali recites, tapping the apex of her faceplate with one slender finger. “I think I’m missing some context with this one.”

“I’m hoping for some exhibits on Earth culture.”

Liara adjusts the black cap perched precariously on top of her head, not quite conforming to her skull crest. She doesn’t know the significance of the round discs protruding from each side, but Kaidan insisted everyone have one. Tali shrugs her shoulders, and the two of them head towards a brightly colored façade, where the faint chords of music filter out into the crowd.

~

When they emerge back into the sunlight, they walk without speaking until the pavilion they’ve just exited is out of sight, and more importantly, out of earshot. They come to a halt and just stand, not caring if they’re in anyone’s way.

Tali speaks first. “I…don’t know what that was.”

Liara stares straight ahead, eyes glazed. She’s thrown the guide map in the trash. “We tell no one this happened. Agree?”

“Liara, I think it’s in my head. That _song_. What if I can’t get it out?”

“We need to go far from here. I think there’s a paddleboat in Liberty Square. Perhaps…a nice quiet sojourn on the water will help.”

“I’m not sure _anything_ can help.”

Goddess, she might be right.

~

Shepard finds Zaeed waiting for them when they emerge from the Jungle Cruise, leaning against a trashcan.

“Bout time you showed up,” she declares. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“What the hell kind of a place is this, Shepard? Some bastard in pinstripes nearly threw my arse out when I tried to get to know that red-headed mermaid.”

Kaidan puts a hand to his face.

“A Magic Kingdom,” Shepard replies solemnly, trying to pretend she doesn’t hear the still-singing krogan. Zaeed glances at the mouse ears on her head. She clears her throat, fingering one of the ears as she takes the opportunity to study the architecture of the totem poles in front of the Enchanted Tiki Room. Under no circumstances is she going to turn around and let him see her name is engraved on the back.

“Well, you look good for dead anyway, I suppose.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Did you really try and cop a feel with the Little Mermaid?”

“If they didn’t want me to get the wrong idea she shouldn’t be walking— _swimming—_ or whatever the bloody hell—with nothing on but goddamned seashells.”

~

Garrus is going to murder James. _Murder_ him. His equilibrium is so skewed he may never be able to fire a rifle again. If Javik and Zaeed hadn’t shown up (and where the hell did Zaeed even come from, anyway?), Garrus might have set fire to the absurdly happy tent they’ve just left. Who would have thought that the villain who finally bested Archangel wouldn’t be the Blood Pack. Or the Eclipse. Or even Cerberus.

It’s a bunch of spinning teacups.

But Javik has found an island. With a fort. And between his irritated mutterings about infantile krogans and ill-fitting eye patches, already has plans for fortifications.

“I will pay you any amount of credits to take me with you,” the turian pleads.

“You must hurry. The tolerable krogan is meeting us there.”

Zaeed makes a disapproving sound in his throat. “And he’ll tear the goddamn place down before we ever show up if we don’t move our arses.”

~

On their way to Tom Sawyer’s Island, James manages to sucker them into a photo op with an anthropomorphic duck wearing a blue blazer.

It ends when Javik recites his favorite recipe for water fowl.  

~

Kaidan never would have guessed that the person who got the most out of this trip would be a krogan, but Grunt has taken the Magic Kingdom by storm. So far they’ve had to confiscate the plastic pirate sword and save their skipper on the Jungle Cruise from an impromptu drowning after Grunt misunderstands a pun about the backside of water.  

But Shepard is smiling wider than she has in months. Kaidan stops trying to tell her trivia about each land they pass through and the nuances of the attractions they ride, because she seems content to just watch, and revel in the happiness permeating every brick beneath their feet. She holds his hand, something she never did _before_ , and the relaxed slant of her shoulders, the soft lines around her eyes instead of those deep-dug trenches remind him of the woman he met his first day on the _Normandy_.

“There’s a mine train,” Grunt informs him. “It’s running away. We have to catch it.”

“It’s…not quite like that,” Kaidan says, but leads them towards Frontierland nevertheless.

They don’t get any farther than the rising peak of Chickapin Hill, and the log flumes cresting the long falls of Splash Mountain. Grunt comes to a stop in the middle of the bridge and stares wide-eyed at the cascade of water that kicks out from a descending flume, a trio of children in the front seat screeching with glee.

Shepard puts a hand to her mouth, stifling a snicker as water drips down the krogan’s nose.

“We’re going there,” Grunt growls.

Kaidan needs no second prompting to head for the queue, doing his best to suppress a stupid grin. When they near the loading area he jams his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet, until he feels Shepard’s grin on his back. Her evil grin.

“This is your favorite, isn’t it.”

He shrugs his shoulders indifferently, deliberately avoiding her gaze.  

“Singing animals? A shit-talking bunny rabbit? Does this tell me something about your psyche maybe I didn’t want to know”

“Just wait.”

~

When they go over the ledge Grunt throws up his hands and roars, and doesn’t stop until they hit the water. Shepard – drenched from head to toe – buys him the picture.

As he strolls away towards Big Thunder Mountain, he throws his head back and starts singing again.

“EVERYBODY HAS A LAUGHING PLACE, A LAUGHING PLACE, TO GO HO-HO.”

Children scatter. Except one, who bravely asks where he got the eye patch.

“So?” Kaidan asks, grinning.

Shepard gives him a withering look. “Ok. Fine. Shit talking rabbits are kind of great. But if he doesn’t quit singing that song, I’m going to give Bre’er Fox a Revenant and an unlimited supply of thermal clips. We’ll see who’s laughing then.

~

The _Hall of Presidents_ is much more Liara’s style. The animatronics work is impressive, she learns something, and even better, gets a few minutes out of this blasted heat. She doesn’t think there is anywhere on Thessia that stays this hot almost year round.

Tali, however, is bored.

“What about that estate we saw when we got off the riverboat?” Liara asks. “That looked interesting.” The wizened oak trees and abundance of Spanish moss admittedly gave it a bit of a leer, but it seemed pleasant enough. Certainly safe from an army of garish, singing dolls.

As they approach the exterior queue (Liara has _never_ seen so many queues in one location before), Tali stops and points past a retaining wall on their left. “What…are those?”

“I think…they’re tombstones. But a children’s playscape seems an odd place to bury dead.”

Tali leans in closer. “Here lies good old Fred. A great big rock fell on his head.”

Liara gasps. “Who could be so cruel to memorialize their dead with such… _mockery_?”

Behind them, a young girl points at another tombstone and giggles, turning a grinning, pig-tailed head up at a weary looking woman with two other boys in tow.

“Dear departed brother Dave,” Liara reads. “He chased a bear into a cave.”

“I think it’s a joke,” Tali informs her.

Liara sighs. “I’ve come to realize that Earth and I do not share the same sense of humor.”

~

After she exits the _Haunted Mansion_ , however, she decides maybe that was a little harsh.

And finds herself frequently checking mirrors for signs of ghostly hitchhikers.

~

A series of mosaic panels glitter under carefully placed lights, like tiny living jewels. If Miranda stares at them long enough, she swears the woman portrayed in each panel, _Cinderella,_ moves and swirls with each shimmer.

She transforms from a servant in a simple blue frock to a princess in a flowing white gown, arm in arm with a prince. It’s so outlandish and impossible she tries to dismiss it, but her eyes keep creeping back to the glass-etched smile of delight, as a glass slipper (apparently of unusual size) slides perfectly on to her foot.

Miranda doesn’t know what she expected to find inside the castle’s sleek walls, but this haunting tribute to a fictional woman is not it.

Even Jack has abandoned her usual disinterested smirk. As she reaches one wandering hand out to touch the brightly colored tiles, Miranda sees something wistful, almost longing, on her face.

“Can you imagine,” Jack says, in a soft tone that sounds stolen from another person. “Is this what normal people grow up with? Stories about fairy godmothers, charming princes and happy endings?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Miranda replies, shuffling her feet.

“Seems pretty fucking dumb to stuff a girl’s head full of this shit. Reality’s gonna turn out to be a total bitch.”

“I don’t know,” Miranda replied, smoothing a strand of long, dark hair behind her ear. “Maybe, sometimes, it’s not so bad to believe in a happy ending. Look at all of us. We weren’t supposed to get one from the reapers.”

Jack snorts. “Happy ending? How many trillion dead do we have at this point? I can’t remember if the last count was ten or fifty.”

“We weren’t _supposed_ to live at all.”

Jack shudders. It’s a rare crack in her hard shell that Miranda finds oddly intimate, something that in the past was probably reserved for Shepard alone to see. A smile curves her face.

“What?” Jack asks, eyes narrowed.

She laughs a little, points at a mosaic of Cinderella dancing at a ball. “I was just picturing you in a dress like that.”

Jack folds her arms across her chest, but there’s no rancor in the gesture. “That funny, huh?”

“I’d even pay to see it.”

Jack glances at something over her shoulder, an impish grin spreading across her face. Before Miranda can react she catches her by the wrist in a wiry grip that’s iron clad and leads her towards a set of wooden doors capped with a sign wrought in careful, elegant script:

_Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique_

“Time to put your credits where your mouth is, Princess.”

~

Tom Sawyer’s Island is only reachable by ferry, which Wrex sees as an advantage.

“We lock it down from the shore. Cut off access from the dock, make them come at us from above.”

James scratches his neck. “Uh, why do we want them to come at us from above? We don’t have aerial support. And this is Tom Sawyer’s Island. What the hell are we defending from?”

“Come on, James,” Garrus says, hopping off the ferry. “Use your imagination.”

~

Zaeed finds the cave first. Exploring the dirt paths that wind through groves of elm and sycamore trees they stumble upon a dark cave with a sign post out front. Javik tries to read the improvised English, but James intervenes when the prothean closes an angry fist that glows green.

“Do not wurry. Injun Joe ain’t been seen around these parts for a long time. His cave is deserted. P.S. Ifn you want to maybe you could wurry just a little bit.”

“Who is Injun Joe?” Javik asks with a sniff.

“Someone we have to stop,” Wrex replied.

James gives Zaeed a sideways glance. “If he ain’t been seen he’s probably mounting an offensive somewhere in secret. No telling how many troops he’s got by now.”

“Oh, that bastard is definitely up to something.”

Wrex growls. “I didn’t save this planet from the reapers just to let it fall to a clanless whelp.”

Zaeed waves a careless hand. “That guide who brought us here. He mentioned something about a fort. Let’s find the sodding thing.”

~

“This gun isn’t real,” Garrus complains, as he tugs at one of the mounted rifles on the ramparts of Fort Langorn. It is poorly provisioned, much to their disappointment. Even the horse in the barn is fake, which is bad news for Wrex but probably good news for the horse. After the kakliasaur assault, the krogan apparently fancies himself a rider.

Instead of patrolling the perimeter of the fort on horseback he stalks about entrance below them, bellowing for Injun Joe to come out of his cave and prove he has a quad. There is no sign of the Injun, but now there are also very few children in the vicinity to interfere. 

One particularly brave youth, however, does manage to sneak past the blustering warlord and climb up to join them only to find Zaeed blocking his access to the other mounted rifles.

Zaeed fixes him with his good eye and a stony countenance. “Piss off, kid.”

The boy, blond-fringed and freckled, gives him a defiant look. “I don’t see your name on it.”

“I don’t need a brand, I have an assault rifle, you little bastard.” He rolls his eyes at Garrus. “You’d think they’d show some respect for the guys who saved the goddamn planet.”

Garrus sights down the barrel of the rifle once more. “Yeah, well, whoever the hell calibrated this thing isn’t worthy of a uniform.”

“It’s a sodding toy. Of course it isn’t calibrated.”

“There’s no excuse for poor workmanship.”

“ _I AM URDNOT WREX, AND THIS IS MY PLANET!”_

Zaeed sniffs. “At least the bloody krogan is enjoying himself.”

~

Javik stands guard at rear of a barrel bridge, arms folded defiantly across his chest as he glowers at two human children who try to scamper across. They stop in front of his shimmering sphere of biotic energy. One is male, perhaps twelve, with a mop of unruly dark hair. The other is a female, younger, with her longer locks peeking out from under the rim of a cap bearing a face and ears in mockery of a mutated canine.

“Hey!” the boy shouts. “We want to get across.”

“No,” Javik replies. “Not until we have located this Injun Joe, and ended his reign of tyranny.”

~

Joker lets one arm hang out over the side of the train car, in express, direct violation of the much-repeated VI instructions, watching the shrubby Florida greenery rush by, occasionally interrupted by the pomp and circumstance of Fantasyland, the tawny, towering peak of Big Thunder Mountain Railroad and the ruckus of the front gates. He turns his head into the breeze and warmth of the setting sun and smiles, EDI’s hand clenched in his lap.

“Jeff, are you sure you do not wish to see more of the attractions this location has to offer?”

“Yup,” he says, eyes still closed. “You think I want to schlep my little matchstick legs all over a giant theme park with thousands of people jockeying for the best place in line – without a gun? Or Shepard? Uh-uh. I’m fine with trains. They do all the schlepping.” He opens one eye. “Unless there’s stuff you wanna see.”

She cocks her head, with that well-timed pause that allows him to think she’s mulling things over, when in fact she’s finished processing the relevant data before the words were even out of his mouth.

“I have detailed information about the current park infrastructure, as well as all past configurations. Therefore, in a way I have already experienced everything. I have not, however, had the opportunity to enjoy a long train ride with you.”

He pushes off from the window and leans against her metal shoulder.

“Besides, based on available data, the attraction I would most like to experience no longer exists. It seems at one point guests rode replica turn-of-the-century motorcars, termed ‘jalopies,’ under the pretense of masquerading as a fictional amphibian. A toad. The jalopies traversed through a network of staged dioramas until a death simulation with a locomotive leads to a recreation of hell.”

“EDI, not one word of that made sense.”

“I concur, which is why I would have enjoyed the opportunity to experience it firsthand.”

“Guess you’re just stuck with me, then.”

“I do not object to this particular chain of events.”

Joker smiles, watches as the peaks of Big Thunder come back into view. “So you think if we can fool the conductor into thinking you’re a geth I can hijack the train?”

~

When dusk turns into dark, they all slowly make their way back to the main hub, staking out a place to watch the impending fireworks in front of a shop on Main Street called Casey’s Corner, where Grunt gets his first hot dog and Liara gets her last.

“This is something humans eat? Regularly?”

“Mrumph,” Kaidan replies around a mouthful.

Shepard stares up at the castle, now lit with slowly oscillating gleams of color. Throngs of people have amassed around the hub, a mix of humans, turians, asari, a few volus seeking higher ground to see from, the occasional krogan (not including Wrex, who walks towards them brandishing some plastic strands of blinking LED lights that he’s gotten off a vendor). There’s even a hanar gliding out of the ice cream shoppe across the street, three cones gripped tightly in its tentacles.

“Thanks for this,” Shepard says as Kaidan comes to stand behind her. She leans back against his chest, and he threads his arms around her. “This was exactly what I wanted.”

He leans in to whisper in her ear. “It’s not over yet.”

The lights in the plaza wink out, shrouding them in expectant darkness. A disembodied voice speaks from the gloom, _Jiminy Cricket_ , Kaidan tells her, and music swells into a crescendo.

The first firework explodes in streamers of silver, blue and gold, lighting up the night sky in a vivid eruption of light. Awe runs through the crowd like an audible shiver, a collective spark shared by thousands of strangers. It’s a feeling Kaidan hasn’t had since he was here as a child, lifetimes ago. A wave of nostalgia hits him hard, the simplicity of a time before the biotics, before the Alliance, before the reapers, almost overwhelming. But it pales in comparison to who he’s here with now, celebrating in the wake of victory that at one point had been hopeless.

Shepard traps his arms across her waist, gasping at the tapestry of color unfolding before them. She squeezes his arm and he pulls her a little closer, resting his cheek against her ear.

In the midst of all the wreckage of Earth, of Palaven, Thessia…somehow this one bright spot has endured. Around him, all of the people who made it possible watch a story about wishes scrawl across the sky. The reality of it is staggering.

Grunt, still wearing his eyepatch, smacks Wrex on the arm, demanding one of the light whips to wave.

James points to Tinkerbell, who appears to take flight from the uppermost pinnacle of the castle and sail over their heads.

Joker and EDI stand side by side, arms slung around one another – living proof to throw in the face of the Catalyst and its insistence that synthetics and organics cannot find common ground.

Tali strokes the tips of Garrus’ skull crest with idle fingers as they both crane their heads towards the sky, the reflection of the fireworks studding the curve of her faceplate like cascades of tiny sequins.

The normally surly expression on Zaeed’s face becomes softer, even elated at the light ribbons cascading down from the dark. He takes the mouse ears off his head and plops them down on the nearest child, who is far more interested in the scarred mercenary than he is in the fireworks.

Liara, standing somewhat apart from the rest at the start of the show, suddenly finds herself shadowed by Javik, who taps at her mouse ears with a mutter. When she admonishes him Kaidan expects him to back off in a huff, but instead the normally touch-phobic prothean places one three-fingered hand tenderly on her shoulder.

And _Jack._ Jack and Miranda, he almost doesn’t recognize. They appear at the meeting spot in ball gowns, Miranda’s a golden mess of silk over chiffon ruffles, and Jack’s an off-the-shoulder sky blue bodice with skirts so full he can’t believe she can even walk. Gloves. Jack is wearing lace _gloves._ Even Shepard stares in shock, though it slowly transforms into a thousand watt smile that lights up the dark.

“You look amazing,” she says, hugging them both.

The last bloom of color explodes over their heads, the tinny voice of Jiminy Cricket reminding them that wishes do come true as the colors fade into trails of white smoke.

The lights come up slowly, as though hesitant to ruin the moment, and people begin to disperse, a tidal rush of humanity (and...non-humanity) flowing towards the exit. Kaidan holds his breath, fingering something he’s kept stored in his pocket all day.

“Shepard,” he says, holding firm to her hand when she starts to follow the others back down Main Street. She turns, blue eyes inquisitive, and his heart pounds in his ears.

“I’ve…arranged something else for us.”

Now everyone else has stopped too, Tali shushing Garrus when he starts to ask what’s going on. Few people are left now around the hub, and as if on cue they hear the sound of clopping hooves resonate off the concrete from the direction of the castle. Under the twinkling light of the lampposts appears a carriage _._ Her eyes widen at the sight of the great white horse wearing a harness trimmed with gleaming gold, tossing its head, mane shimmering like silver.

“What…did you do?” she asks.

He swallows, painfully aware that the eyes of every member of their crew now rested squarely on him.

“Well…it turns out that when you’re a Spectre working for Commander Shepard, the woman who, you know...saved the galaxy…people are willing to pull a few strings for you.” He offers her a hand and a smile. “Come on, Cinderella. Your carriage awaits.”

“What about them?” she asks, motioning back to their crew.

“They can catch the next one.”

And in fact there is a _line_ of carriages marching out of Adventureland.

“Shepard—”

“No, Grunt. You can’t ride the horse. You have to ride _in_ the carriage.”

Kaidan laughs, helps Shepard up into the carriage. The horse snorts, pawing anxiously, and she gives it a wary look with one foot still on the step. “It’s not going to…do anything. Right?”

“Is the mighty Commander Shepard, the woman who brokered peace between the krogan and the turians, punched a quarian admiral, jumped out of a shuttle to fight a reaper _on foot_ , and actually overcame death, afraid of horses?”

“Shut up.”

She hops the rest of the way in and Kaidan slides in beside her. The carriage jumps forward as the driver gives the horse its head, and she grips his arm.

He kisses her, smoothing a hand through her hair, feels her smile against his lips.    

 “So…is there a, uh. Reason for this grand romantic gesture?”

“Yeah, actually. There is. Since you’re so nosy.”

The expression on her face is nearly giddy, and he can’t stop a flush from creeping up his neck. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out a small box.

“I said once I wanted to be your soft place to land. You’re… _everything_ to me. You know that. From the moment you walked on the SR1. You’re bold, beautiful, fearless…except for horses, apparently…”

She makes a face.

“…and your sheer force of will is the only thing that got any of us this far. I love you. For the rest of your life I want you to know that I’ll be there, beside you, good or bad, whatever you’ve got.” He grips her hand tight. “I thought I lost you. Twice. I’m not willing to take that chance again.”

He opens the box and holds up a small jeweled ring that gleams like a ghost. “Will you marry me?”

There’s a whoop over the comm that nearly startles him out of his seat. A wave of horror washes over him. “Do you…do you have your comm open?”

A somewhat guilty look crosses her face. “Garrus and I were taking bets about when you’d do it. Next thing you know, Jack and James wanted in, and it kind of, um. Got out of control from there.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “Ok. Well. How…did I do?”

Now it’s her turn to draw him in, pressing her lips against him as she lifts the ring out of the box and slides it deftly onto her finger. “You did good,” she says, when they come up for air. She tilts her head and speaks into her comm. “Did you all get that?”

The turian’s flanging subharmonics echo back. “Jack says it doesn’t count without a verbal commitment.”

“Yes,” Shepard declares, then shuts off the comm and loops her arms around Kaidan’s neck.

“So. Commander Shepard gets her happy ending. Sorry I’m not an actual prince. I’m not sure Canadians can actually be princes.”

“If Prince Charming tried to usurp you for my affections I’d plug him with a Paladin.”

“Dammit, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She leans against him with a happy sigh. The _Normandy_ still waits up in orbit, and with it the reality of the monumental tasks that still lie ahead. Mourning. Healing. Rebuilding. Learning how to live a different way of life in a much emptier universe. But for now they sit together, hands entwined, and look outside the carriage as the lights of a fantasy world slip slowly past and fade into the dark.


End file.
